


Questionable Methods for Asking Something Simple

by WM_WM_WM



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Dark Humor, Dib is a jerk, Humor, Lovebug AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21554476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WM_WM_WM/pseuds/WM_WM_WM
Summary: Zim asks Dib a question. The human is displeased, and rightfully so; Zim just broke into his house.
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 106





	Questionable Methods for Asking Something Simple

"Do you have a stapler?" Zim asked politely.

Glass shards were scattered in every corner of the room. The alien brushed off small pieces of the window off of his white uniform, and adjusted his wig from the landing. The hole in the wall, formerly a window, blew freezing night air into the room. The full moon, at the tip of it's arc, shone light through the room. Dib gawked; his jaw was agape at the sight he just witnessed. The smashing of the windows still rang in his ears. Too shocked to speak, the human shook his head.

Disappointed, the alien quipped, "That's too bad. Well, goodnight, Dib-bee!"

He was about to turn around to leave, but Dib got his act together.

"You just broke into my house," he stated.

Whipping around, his foot slid a little from the glittering, broken pieces of glass. Zim took a moment to reflect on his actions. He scanned the floor, scattered with shards.

"Well, I guess so!" he chirped.

"You broke my window. Now, all of these shards are everywhere, and if I step on one of them the wrong way, that shit's going to cut like scissors through wrapping paper."

Zim's face grew concerned.

"Yep, that's a lot of glass shards," he mumbled, guilty.

The alien lightly kicked a loose shard, face deepening in color with shame. However, the darkness hid it.

"And you could've avoided all of this," Dib yelled, dramatically waving his hands around the room, "By going to the front door, and asking, 'hey, can I use your stapler?'"

Zim rubbed his chin; he appeared to be deep in thought.

"Hmm, yes," he grumbled, still polite as ever, "That would've been a better action."

Doing an emotional 180º turn, he yelled, "Oh well! You live and learn!"

The alien, desperately wanting to forget this all happened, tiptoed backwards. He wasn't used to his body being pumped with guilt. His brain, frightened, told him the best option was to skedaddle out of there. Curtains swayed softly in the moonlight.

"Where do you think you're going?" Dib snapped.

Zim shrugged his shoulders. His hands flexed and relaxed nervously.

He commanded, "Throw me my sandals so I can get a broom."

The alien scanned the ground, and picked up what he hoped were the items he requested. He lightly tossed him his shoes, which he slipped on. Dib stomped out of his room, and down the dark, foreboding hall. Creaking open a closet door, he grabbed a broom and a dustpan. The teen slunk back into the mess; he quietly placed the pan onto the ground. In the dark light, Dib began sweeping up the shards.

The alien quietly murmured, "Don't you want me to do that?"

"Nope," Dib informed him calmly, "You're going to do something else."

A cold sweat condensed onto the alien's face. He wondered in horror what he meant. A swath of awkwardness formed like a dense fog between the two. Zim tenderly scurried out of the way of the broom, who was tickling his feet. A silent, tense minute passed between them. Multiple times, the alien maneuvered to leave the situation, but every time, a furious glare stopped him dead in his tracks. After what seemed like forever and an eighth, the dustpan was full of window pieces. The teen slid the items into his trashcan.

"Now," Dib stated, "I'd imagine a window costs... around five-hundred dollars."

Zim squeaked in agony.

"W-well, isn't your father a famous scientist?" he murmured, trying to brush the problem away, "Surely you all have enough money to fix a silly little window, right?"

The alien now noticed that the teen towered over him. What little he could see in the low light was a hint of anger.

"Zim, have you read the news lately?" he snarled.

He shook his head somberly.

"We're in the middle of an economic downturn. Dad's probably going to get fired, seeing as the government is cutting off his resources. Hell, I'm pretty fucking thankful that I even have a job. Speaking of that..."

Dib glanced at his alarm clock. The simple, red numbers read, "12:47".

With a sly smirk, the teen taunted, "I'm going to have to wake up in a few hours. By interrupting my sleep schedule, you have caused me future harm; what if, in my drowsiness, I burn, or cut myself? Isn't the point of your invasion to spread health and happiness?"

"Okay, fine!" Zim moaned, twiddling his fingers somberly.

His body quivered in a foreign mixture of regret and shame.

"I made a little mistake-"

"A little?"

"Silence!" Zim screeched, sticking a quivering hand in his face, "I'll fix your stupid fucking window!"

Both creatures were surprised at his ferocity. Zim felt shame swell in his small body; his people were forbidden to express those kinds of emotions. Tears pricked the edge of his eyes. Slouching, he slunk to the hole in the wall.

"I'll be back; give me a minute," he mumbled, as the alien slipped out of the house.

Dib stuck his head out of the frame. He could see the little green man sprint down the street, and eventually, out of sight. He let out a small sigh, as silence enclosed his dark room. The teen flopped back onto his bed. He desperately hoped that he did not abandon him in his freezing room. Minutes slowly crept by. After a swath of quiet swept through the room, he heard tiny footsteps scamper up the side of his house. Dib slunk to the window, where a familiar green head poked out of it. Greeting the human, he placed a small, metal object in the corner of the frame.

"Maybe it's time I learned some responsibility," Zim mentioned quietly.

"Yeah, it's good to own up to your mistakes. I, uh, don't do it sometimes, but-"

Zim squeaked, "Maybe you could own up to the fact that you bully me?"

The teen's face lit up red with shame. He quickly looked away, but his gaze eventually fixated on the alien.

Clearing his throat, and brushing his fingers through his hair, Dib mumbled, "Sorry for being mean to you."

"Awe, it's no big deal!" Zim mentioned, smiling.

Suddenly, the alien's eyes grew wide.

With an overjoyed squeal, and bursting with happiness, Zim praised, "That was such a good apology! You should do more of those-"

Before he could finish, however, a pane of glass erupted from the machine! It looked just like his old window. Zim, startled, lost his grip on the house! He plummeted into the bushes below. The teen let out a barking laugh, as he waved goodbye to the alien, who was limping out of his yard. He was surprised to find himself ashamed to laugh at him.

"I always laugh at him," he thought, "And I've never felt sorry!"

Suddenly, he realized his opinion of the alien was improving. No matter how much he tried to shut out his feelings, it seemed as if the alien was worming his way into his heart. With a low grumble, he sulked back to his bed, and pulled the covers over his head. Noticing it was considerably warmer, he shook off a blanket. He tossed and turned, but his body didn't think sleep was an option. Laying on his back, he sighed, frustrated.

One thing was clear to him; a friendship was about to bloom.

All because Zim asked if he had a fucking stapler.


End file.
